Seven ways Ziad Rahbani changed Arabic music

The late Lebanese composer pushed boundaries throughout his five-decade career

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  Lebanese artist Ziad Rahbani performs during a concert at al-Manara theatre, in Cairo on November 30, 2018. AFP

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  Rahbani performs during the Beirut Holidays 2019 Festival at the waterfront in the Lebanese capital on July 19, 2019. AFP

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  Rahbani performs during a concert at the Ehdeniyat International Festival in Ehden town in Lebanon on July 30, 2015. Reuters

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  Ziad Rahbani

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  Ziad Rahbani, the Lebanese composer, playwright, pianist and political activist, has died, aged 69. AFP

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  (FILES) Lebanese diva Fairuz (C) talks to her son, composer Ziad Rahbani (R), and Armenian conductor Karen Durgarian during rehearsals prior to their Dubai concert on January 23, 2003. Rahbani passed away at the age of 68 on July 26, 2025 according to Lebanon's National News Agency. (Photo by JORGE FERRARI / AFP)

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  His mother Fairouz performed some of his compositions at her concerts, blending Lebanese folklore with western syncopation and phrasing. AFP

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  Rahbani, left, performing with his mother Fairouz at Beirut's Piccadilly Theatre in 1975, in the musical Mais El Rim. AFP

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  From a young age, Rahbani showed signs of prodigious talent, composing his first musical work at the age of 17. AFP

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  Lebanon's President Joseph Aoun said Rahbani was 'not just an artist, but a complete intellectual and cultural phenomenon'. AFP

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  Rahbani, right, in July 2001, at a rehearsal with Armenian conductor Karen Durgaryan in Beiteddine, in the Chouf region of Lebanon, for concerts by Fairouz at the annual festival. AFP

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  Rahbani at an anti-government protest organised by Lebanon's communist party, in Beirut in December 2018. AP

Ziad Rahbani reimagined what Arabic music could be.

The Lebanese composer and playwright, who died on Saturday aged 69, charted his own path from the beginning of his five-decade career. From redefining his mother Fairouz's career, to transforming what could be seen and heard on the Lebanese theatre stage, Rahbani's contributions showed the dynamism of Lebanese music while breaking outdated taboos.

More than these stylistic and technical feats, the reason Rahbani's death has been felt so keenly in Lebanon and across the Arab world – with tributes pouring in from musicians to politicians – is that his work was deeply empathetic to the trials and travails of the common man.

Ziad Rahbani, 'the voice of Lebanon's soul', dies at 69: Tributes pour in

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As Taymoor Marmarchi, Mena Recording Academy executive director, tells The National, Rahbani's music made people feel seen and heard. "He wasn't just an iconic musician and composer – he was part of the soundtrack of so many people's lives all across the Arab world. He captured the soul of Lebanon with raw honesty and intellectual brilliance," he said.

"His words made us laugh, think and sometimes cry, because they spoke to real moments we all lived through. He had this rare gift of turning politics into poetry, and everyday struggles into unforgettable songs. His legacy isn't just in what he created, but in how he made people feel seen."

Here are seven ways Rahbani changed popular Arabic music.

1. He gave Fairouz a second act

Rahbani pictured with his mother, Fairuz, in 2003. AFP

By the late 1970s, Lebanese artist Fairouz's career high was gradually turning into a creative cul-de-sac, with her musical identity still rooted in the folk theatre and operatic works of Assi and Mansour Rahbani. It took her son Ziad to shake up her sound. Brilliant albums such as Wahdon (1979) and Maarifti Feek (1987), found Fairouz moving away from the pastoral scenes and folk wisdom of the Rahbani Brothers to embrace darker ballads and jazzy torch songs.

Ziad's lyrics reflected the gritty social realities of Beirut such as in the 1979 Fairouz track Al Bosta. Initially viewed as a creative risk, the shift helped cement both his and Fairouz's status as commentators on Lebanon's changes and challenges over the years.

2. He made Arabic jazz cool

Rahbani performs at the opening of the 55th International Hammamet Festival in Tunisia on August 2, 2019. AFP

Popular Arabic music has a long history of incorporating Western elements into its sound – whether through the orchestras of Umm Kulthum using violins, or Abdel Halim Hafez drawing on the sound of French chanson for his ballads. Rahbani didn't just borrow aspects of jazz as an appendage.

A fan of jazz maestros Charlie Parker, Stan Getz and Dizzy Gillespie, he absorbed the sound fully with solo works full of nifty phrasing, improvisation and harmonic depth. This approach shines in seminal recordings such as Nazl El Sourour (1974) and Film Ameriki Tawil (1980), with Arabic compositions built on jazzy foundations of upright bass and trumpets. He coined the term "Oriental jazz" to describe his style, and his recording sessions were known to encourage improvisation – most clearly heard in the vibrant 1978 album, Abu Ali.

3. He made protest music funny

Rahbani's politically inspired songs were defined more by dry satire than grand declarations. You rarely find sloganeering in his lyrics – just a catalogue of observations reflecting the absurdity of the times. In songs for theatrical plays such as Bennesbeh Labokra Shou? (1978), Shi Fashel (1983), and Bikhsous el Karameh (1993), the music was inseparable from political commentary.

Characters used it to expose contradictions in Lebanese society. Rather than offering revolutionary anthems or patriotic hymns, Rahbani's political works captured the weary cynicism of ordinary Lebanese caught between competing factions.

His characters expressed the kind of political exhaustion that resonated across generations – the sense that ideology had given way to survival. This approach continues to strike a chord as Lebanon moves from one crisis to the next.

4. He made Arabic music more intimate

A woman confessing a love to a married childhood sweetheart – the subject matter of one of Fairouz's most memorable tracks, Kifak Inta, caused a stir upon release. It wasn't only due to what was perceived as daring subject matter in conservative Lebanese society, but also the fact that it came from the country's musical idol.

Not only did it showcase the brilliant songwriting partnership between mother and son, it showed how Rahbani pushed the Arabic ballad to move beyond the extreme ends of the relationship scale – grand love and crushing heartbreak – to explore some of the more interesting places in between, such as nostalgia, regret, and confessionals.

All of which went on to be incorporated in works by Lebanese indie music stalwarts such as Mashrou' Leila, Yasmine Hamdan, and Tania Saleh. The latter summed up the influence best in her tribute to Rahbani for The National: "Some people like to think the indie scene started with us. I don't think so. I believe it started with him, because he was already independent – from his family, from the Lebanese music scene, and even from the larger Arab world. His influences came from everywhere. He was the true first."

5. He turned street slang into song

Rahbani infused the Lebanese theatre stage and songs with unfiltered Beiruti dialect – fast, clipped and dripping with sarcasm. The move also aligned with his image as an enfant terrible, disrupting the approach of the Rahbani Brothers, who often drew on stylised village dialects in their work.

Ziad made his songs sound deliberately raw – with staccato phrasing and repeated spoken-word phrases – but it made them feel real and urgent. That freewheeling approach to lyrics and vocal delivery has since become a trait of Arabic indie music, from the work of Lebanese band Mashrou' Leila to Palestinian rapper Saint Levant.

6. He is the blueprint for fusing Arabic music

Rahbani's discography is replete with styles such as disco-funk, bossa nova, jazz and French chanson. But that exploration was always rooted in clear and distinct Arabic melodies. This vast body of work deserves to be cited more when discussing how Arab music can be fluid with Western forms without losing its integrity.

7. Rahbani still hasn't faded

Rahbani's work never lost its vitality and audience. Tracks from the 1970s and 80s are regularly reissued on vinyl by labels such as WeWantSounds and Habibi Funk. DJs sample his grooves and snippets of musicals are reposted and subtitled for a new generation of viewers across the Arab world.

These rediscoveries are not part of retro fads found in other genres such as disco and funk. They remain as relevant as Lebanon's ongoing resilience. His work will remain a reference point for creatives on what it means to be proud of your heritage while also embracing what the world out there holds.